


kissing mirrors

by f_ckromeoandjuliet



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alcholism, Alternate Universe - Space, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Mention of underaged drinking, POV First Person, Past Character Death, mention of drugs, short chapters sorry, tell me if i need to tag anything else
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-05
Updated: 2018-07-05
Packaged: 2019-06-04 22:03:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15156548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/f_ckromeoandjuliet/pseuds/f_ckromeoandjuliet
Summary: Harry Styles is known across the universe for his sold out shows and sparkling personality, but life is tough and shit happens.OrHow Harry learns to accept the death of his sister and girlfriend and falls in love with his tour manager.





	1. Louis: rum and coke

**Author's Note:**

> So this started off as a story with original characters but the main characters were based on Harry and Louis's personalities (kinda) so I changed the names and posted this so enjoy. 
> 
> FYI family dynamics in this are really fucked up so don't come at me about that.

For a planet with two moons, nights on Enaka were surprisingly dark, but that might just be the gloomy attitude Harry Styles brought everywhere he goes.

He’s an enigma really. On stage he shined brighter than the distant stars of his next venue but offstage, he was nothing more than a hollow shell of a man drinking to forget the death of his girlfriend and sister, the two people he really felt he had left in a universe that fucked him over any chance it got.

“Another rum and coke, please. It’s a delicacy on my home planet of Earth.” The bartender grunts at the Englishman in response. 

“Hold the rum,” I reply giving my client a stern look. “It might be a specialty on earth, but five is enough for now.” He hums in disagreement and I don’t know if I should be more concerned with his chipper by Harry standards mood or the fact that five rum and cokes haven’t buzzed him really. “Haz, we need to get to bed. We leave for Hututu tomorrow.

“And they can kiss my arse.” We both knew he would eat his words when he finally stands before the crowd of thirty thousand for his first show of a full earth week on the planet. 

“Come on. We leave at three empire time and six-”

“am British Summer Time. What month is it?”

“August I presume.” His facade starts to crack.

“Two months left, Lou.”

“Two months, Haz.”

 


	2. Harry: mirror ghosts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe myths are true

I roll out of bed the next morning and Louis, my asshole manager, curls into himself with the lack of my body pressed up against his. Eight years later and on every planet people think I’m banging my manager therefore only one bed.

As I pass a mirror the full extent of how hard Val and Gemma’s death was on me catches on as if they’re slapping me with the truth. It wouldn’t surprise me since ghosts are a tangible part of society in some backwoods places. “Gemma, forgive me,” I choke out, “and Val we were going to get married someday. I was going to buy you an engagement ring that cost more than your house.” No one responds confirming my suspicions that not all folklore is real, but for safety sake, I kiss the glass surface like I was told by the tribe of zuku crystal miners. Underpaid and dying from their work all they had was tradition keeping them going which I respected deeply (not to mention zuku crystals powers the ships carrying life forms between stars).

Nothing comes of the ritual except a goopy smear of tinted vaseline on the reflective surface. Still, I cling. 

The myth of mirror ghosts have become somewhat of a hipster trend in the last few years to the point people listen for the steady hum of electricity before pressing their lips to mirrors in fear of being shocked but either this hotel is too poor under the guise of a “rustic” feel or don’t give two shits about stains on their mirrors. It’s not shocking to anyone that citizens of Earth took the culture of others for their own use really. They had been doing it for thousands of years before space travel took them past their own galaxy and they’ll do it for thousands of more years. 

Shit I talk like I’m not from Earth but I am just as fucking guilty of this trend but I don’t claim to feel like I’m apart of a culture I’m not then act like I’m holier than thou because my lattes are made with chicarra milk instead of soy milk because that pound difference makes it so much better instead of it tasting like dirt mixed with leather. 

Instead, I grit my teeth and accept the chicarra tea I’m given by Zuku grandmas and suggest maybe next time I visit I’ll bring a box of Earl Gray for them to try.

Louis lets out a small noise pulling me from my silent rant. When I look back towards the bed he’s sleepily rubbing at his eyes. They flow between golden and blue hinting at the unearthly heritage of his Mom. He looks between me and the mirror. “Did Val come by?”

“No. We both know that’s still bullshit.” He slips on his glasses before shuffling past me into the bathroom. 

“I’m going to take a shower now. Don’t order me any room service.” 

“Okay.” I want to scream at him to pay attention to the bullshit around us, but instead, I listen to the soft click of the bathroom door locking before ordering myself breakfast.

It used to be the three of us against the world. Louis, Gemma, and I. Gemma was sixteen while we were fourteen sneaking into rock shows in the bad part of London and pickpocketing the rich so we could afford greasy pancakes drenched in artificial blueberry maple syrup afterward. We used to steal liquor and get drunk before passing out on the roof of apartment buildings because no one cared enough to make sure we weren't missing or dead. 

A year later we met Valerian or Val for short. She was fourteen but undernourished to the point she looked ten. No one could resist her sweet smile and wicked pickpocketing abilities so three became four. 

I fell in love with her instantly. First her smarts but as she started to gain an appetite I fell in love with her looks. The bruises on her arms healed, but the cigarette burns and acid scars left a permanent reminder of a life I held her at night to forget. My parents may have been careless but her’s were evil. I still remember waking up to wet t-shirts and muffled crying as I held her through the nightmares. I hope nightmares don’t exist where people go in death and I hope wherever it is her parents never cross her path and I hope I never cross their paths or prison will be on my horizon. 

I wish I could go back to the innocence of London.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow my Tumblrs @louiesonlyangel or @lostwithnointernet


	3. Louis: old white chapel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sometimes pancakes are better when they taste like cigarette smoke

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, I tasted pancakes like what I described and they're not complete shit

“These pancakes taste like shit, man.” Harry arches an eyebrow at me and pulls the takeout container out of my reach. “It’s the truth, Haz. They’re too fluffy and don’t taste enough like bacon and cigarette smoke to be authentic London dive pancakes.” He takes a bite chewing slowly.

“I don’t think you can get authentic shitty pancakes outside of Old White Chapel.” Back a hundred years ago the entire area of White Chapel was moved to the other side of London and up popped an area popular with musicians and prostitutes because music, food, and sex were all cheaper than the shitty weed and cocaine lowlifes sold on the street corners. Basically White Chapel went back to its roots as a place a man could murder hookers in peace.

“Yeah, but they could try.”

“If you are so concerned with eating shit you should have tried the breakfast I got from room service. I paid twenty pounds-”

“Galras,” I correct.

“Twenty currency to throw my food down the garbage. It was insane.”

“Like you can’t spare Twenty galras to wipe your ass with,” mocks our pilot. He acts Scottish but he’s not considering his skin is light blue and he was yelling in Intergalactic Speak. Harry gives a curt reply about how he wants his food to be edible when he pays that much for it before turning back to me. Something in his expression has changed.

“I want to cut the last week off of my tour.” I can see his jaw clench. It’s his way of looking tougher when really he’s scared.

“Why, Haz?”

“I want to visit home before-” he cuts himself off.

“Before what?” We haven’t gone home to our parents since we were sixteen so why now?

“Before the anniversary of their deaths.” The sentence hits me like a ton of bricks. He doesn’t mean the village we grew up in, but the apartment the four of us shared.

“Are you willing to reschedule those dates?”

“Maybe. I just want to go home. I want to see the place without the tinge of that day. I want to go back in time, Lou.” He bites his lip to the point I’m shocked he doesn’t draw blood. “I want my girls back.” I lean close rubbing his shoulders.

“I want them back too, but they’re gone. All we’ll have are memories and that’s fine.” He mumbles something to himself. “What?”

“It was my fault, Louis. I killed them.”

“Don’t say that. You could have never known.”

“It was my junker car. It was my fault. I KILLED MY BEST FRIENDS, LOUIS!” He pushes my hands away and grabs for his pancakes and a bottle of vodka. “No one fucking talk to me. Especially Louis.” He slams and locks the door to the only bedroom on the tour ship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know by now. The Tumblrs are @louiesonlyangel and @lostwithnointernet


	4. Harry: Cupcake Vodka

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes you need a new perspective

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently, it won't let me go back and change the text so if you read Sars or Saros anywhere it's Louis because I'm dumb and it's late at night. I also don't know how drugs work so forgive me.

Val loved the taste of cupcake vodka and I loved the taste of cupcake vodka on her lips. We used to get blasted, but never high. Drugs felt like a separate level of sinning none of them touched. They had seen the overdoses of homeless people in alleys and they had watched people feel the ecstasy a little too hard and jumped off building believing they could fly, but landing with a bang and crunch.

The government could say that drug abuse had been eradicated, but they lied. In the new parts of the city where people lived in sleek buildings with all the amenities and had barcodes on their wrists giving them access to what they needed, maybe drugs were gone, but in the parts where people were more than a serial code and didn’t feel like giving up their privacy drugs ran rampant because drugs and rejects seem to attract each other. Still, they kept a pact, no drugs and nothing stronger than Everclear was ever going to touch their systems.

Times like these I wanted to break the rules, but I know that Louis would hold me back kicking and screaming because he’s an asshole, but he’s an asshole that cares.

There’s a knock on the door. “Fuck off, Lou.”

“It’s not Mr. Tomlinson, Sir. It’s Niall. I just wanted to make sure you were alright.” Niall is my bassist. A nice kid but too sweet to be dealing with my ass every day.

“Oh, Niall. Can you get me some tea, please? No chicarra anything. Only Earls Grey and cane sugar.”

“No problem, Sir.” I hear the padding of feet walking away.

“It’s just Harry,” I yell. The footsteps stop. “And thank you, Niall.”

“No problem Harry.” He doesn’t stop him this time.

A few minutes later the kid knocks on the door again. I move over slightly from where I had slid down the wall. Niall hands me my tea and closes the door before sliding down beside me. I offer him some Vodka. “Not old enough,” he mumbles. I always knew he was young but child labor laws have gone to shit if they’re letting children tour the universe now.

“That’s fair but I started drinking at twelve. Used to be a genius before I started killing brain cells.” It was supposed to be a lighthearted joke but like everything else in my life it comes off as pathetic.

“Why would someone drink at twelve years old?”

“Because life sucks sometimes. My parents didn’t care about my existence so I started sneaking out. I moved to London at fifteen.”

“Same. Instead of alcohol, I turned to music. There was this bar I would play in down on Lilac Street.” Lilac Street was the street running right down the middle of Old White Chapel. Somehow people thought flower names would make the contents of the area less vulgar.

“Elixir,” I whisper to myself. “I got my start there.” _I lived above there._ “Did you ever eat the pancakes at Galaxy Dan’s.”

“I never had the money.”

“We always pickpocketed the men trying to pick up whores.” He doesn’t even give a second look at the statement but instead takes a sip of his tea.

“We?”

“Louis and I lived together.”

“When you dated?” The question gut-punches me.

“We never dated. I had a girlfriend.”

“Was she the one that crashed?” I choke of my tea.

“Her and my sister. Did you see it?” He nods.

“The funeral was massive too. I would have gone but I didn’t know her or you.”

“It’s okay. The majority of the people there didn't give two fucks about the girls. All they cared about was crashing the worst day of my life. I had to bury the two people I loved the most the same day.”

“I know it’s not the same but when I moved to London I had to give up my-” He takes a sip cutting off his words. “I had to give up my-I’m gay.” He looks scared of my reaction.

“So is Louis. You have to learn that there are places where people give a shit about that then places like Old White Chapel where you could be queer, a lizard, or a queer lizard and no one cares as long as you share your beer and cigarettes.”

“But what about here? What about you?” I know those are two wildly different questions so i brace myself by chugging vodka. It burns like hell.

“Wherever we are the few good values of the neighborhood will live on.  About the second question, I’m not picky about people, but I haven’t dated since Val.” I know that from my expression he can tell who Val is.

“Than why not Louis?”

“Why not Louis do what?”

“Why not date Louis? You love him. He loves you.”

“N, you don’t get it. I’m an asshole and he’s married to his job.”

“Which is you. His whole job is dealing with you.” I can’t argue with that logic.

“Is two years too soon?” He strokes at the pattern in the carpet.

“I never met Val, but she would be happy for you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know the drill. Just go follow me, please.

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on Tumblr @louiesonlyangel or @lostwithnointernet


End file.
